


Let Me Be Your Wings

by Batsutousai



Series: Tales of the Fairy Men [5]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Tommelise | Thumbelina - Hans Christian Andersen
Genre: Attempted Forced Marriage, Kidnapping, M/M, Nearly Drowning, Nearly Freezing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-31
Updated: 2013-05-31
Packaged: 2017-12-13 13:23:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/824772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stolen from his bed, little Tommel will do anything to get home to his mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Be Your Wings

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston is based on a real person, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
> **A/N:** This is part of a series of fics based on [a challenge](http://batsutousai.tumblr.com/post/38980067347) to write your OTP using various fairy tales. And colours. Twelve fics, one per month, for the entirety of 2013.  
>  May's prompt is _Thumbelina_ with the colour purple.  
>  Given that the original, Danish title of this tale is _Tommelise_ , I'm gonna use a variation on it as Tom's full name, rather than Thumbelina or Thomas. Minor change, just a heads up.
> 
> It seemed like, every time I told someone what this month's fairy tale was, I was asked if I meant _Tom Thumb_. And, well, no, in fact. Two different tales, though it is true that Hans Christian Andersen took some inspiration from _Tom Thumb_ and other such tales of tiny people in his writing of _Thumbelina_.
> 
> Unlike the 1994 animated film based on this tale, this fic is very much Tom-centric, akin to the original fairy tale. For all, like, four of you who have actually seen it. XP

There lived an old woman on the edge of a village in the wilds of England who cared for her farm all alone. She had been married, once, to a kind farmer, who had left her a widow not quite a year after their marriage. Following his death, the child he had left her pregnant with was stillborn, and she mourned for so long, that none would speak with her any longer, but to purchase eggs or milk when the more prosperous farm on the other side of the village couldn't produce enough. 

It was a lonely life, but the animals kept her company and she kept as busy as she could. 

One day, in mid-summer, a group of gypsies came past. The villagers were more than happy to see their performance, but when a storm blew in, the gypsies found the doors of their audience closed to them. But the old woman was more than happy to give them shelter in her barn and share with them the last of her winter store. 

When the storm had passed, the leader of the gypsies returned her kindness with a single seed. "Plant it in your home, and water it every day, and it will grant your greatest wish," he told her. 

So the old woman set a dish on her kitchen table and filled it with dirt and planted the seed. She took care to water it every day, and when she was lonely, she would sit in one of the chairs and tell fabulous tales of kingdoms long past. 

The seed grew, sure and slow, into a single stalk of the deepest green, topped with a flower the most royal shade of purple. And when the flower began to bloom, on the first day of autumn, the old woman sat in that kitchen chair and waited with bated breath, for it was certain to be beautiful. 

And, what should appear within the petals, but a tiny boy with hair as golden as the sun and eyes as blue as the summer sky. He looked up at her with a sleepy smile and called her 'Mother', and she knew the gypsy's words had come true. 

She named him Tommel, for his tiny size, and spent a whole day making him clothing and bedding and emptying out a matchbox for him to sleep in. 

Through the autumn and the winter and into the spring, he climbed all over her, like an explorer on a mountain, and helped her care for the animals and the farm in every way he possibly could. During the nights, she told him stories and sang him to sleep, and they were both very happy together. 

One night in late spring, while Tommel slept in his matchbox on the kitchen table and his mother slept in her own bed down the hall, a window cracked open and in hopped a toad. He was an ugly sort of creature, covered in warts, whose little sister had seen Tommel during a trip down the stream that ran through the farm, falling immediately in love. The toad, whose name was Heimdall, had sworn to collect the tiny boy, and spent the past three nights hopping back, dodging chickens and the barn cat. 

Finally, he had Tommel in his sights, and he wasted no time in slinging the boy over his back, and hopping straight for the stream. A piece of bark from a nearby tree served as a boat, and Heimdall happily floated them down the stream in a quarter of the time it had taken him to hop his way back up. 

So Tommel woke to a squeal, and found a wide-eyed girl-toad leaning over him. He had about a second to wonder where she'd come from, when her lips were on his and he was being squeezed tight by cold arms. 

Tommel shoved himself away and almost fell off the lily pad they were all standing upon. "Who are you?!" he shouted, clutching to the edge. "And where _am_ I?" 

"I am Sif Toad," the girl-toad told him, "and this is my brother, Heimdall. He brought you to me so you and I can marry. For you are handsome and I have fallen in love." She batted her large eyes at him and puckered her lips. 

Tommel immediately shook his head. "There's been some mistake. Please, I don't wish to get married. I just want to go home to Mother; I don't want her to be lonely." 

Sif let out a wail and Heimdall stepped forward, eyes narrowed. "You will marry my sister, little human, and you will keep her happy, or you will pay. Forget your mother, she is no longer of your concern." 

Tommel shoved at Heimdall. "Don't speak of my mother that way! I love her, and I'm going home!" So saying, he turned and jumped from the current lily pad to another nearby, and another and another, aiming for the shore. 

But Heimdall jumped after him, and his greater weight caused the lily pads to wibble and wobble and duck under the surface of the water. 

And Tommel, who hadn't expected the sudden shaking, took a tumble into the stream. He had never learned to swim, and he thrashed and shouted, trying to stay above water, as the slight current swiftly carried him away from the two toads. 

Just before he would have lost consciousness, far too full of water to bother keeping afloat, something hard and slick pressed up under him, lifting his head above the water. He spluttered and looked down to find glinting scales and nearly transparent fins moving easily under the water. 

_A fish,_ he realised, and pulled his legs up to keep them out of the way of the fish's other fin. "Thank you," he whispered, then had to cling to the scales as he coughed up some of the water that had travelled down his lungs. 

The fish carried him far down the stream, far beyond even the most distant shouts of the chasing toad, ensuring Tommel's safety. Then the fish swam over to some cattails near the shore and held still while Tommel climbed onto dry land. 

"Thank you," Tommel said again, meeting the bulging black eyes with a grateful smile. 

The fish dipped under the water and flipped its back fin at Tommel in acceptance, then was gone. 

Tommel stared at the slow current for a long moment, his heart sinking with the certainty that he would never get home. Mother would again have to live alone, and Tommel ached at the thought. 

"I want to go home," he whispered, wrapping his arms around himself in a helpless attempt at comfort. 

"Aren't you an odd one!" a voice boomed out from behind Tommel. The tiny human turned to find a grinning beetle watching him from atop a stalk of grass. He jumped off, wings buzzing to direct his travel so he landed directly in front of Tommel. "I'm Thor Beetle!" he said, holding out one hairy leg. 

Tommel carefully took it and shook. "Tommel. I'm a bit lost." 

Thor's eyes widened. " _Lost_? Goodness! Well, you've been found, now!" He wrapped two legs around Tommel and began leading him away from the stream. "Come, Tommel! You look like you could do with a warm drink and some entertainment!" 

Well, that was true enough, so Tommel nodded and let Thor lead him on to a rotting log where all sorts of insects were gathered, drinking and laughing loudly. They all greeted Thor cheerfully enough, but most of them eyed Tommel with no little dislike. 

Thor introduced him around to his three beetle friends, who all seemed to like him well enough. They drank and were merry and Tommel had so much fun with the four of them, days and days passed without him thinking of his mother once. 

Eventually, however, Thor bowed to the pressures of his fellow insects and the fact that Tommel had no wings, so was slowing them all down, and wished him farewell. He _was_ willing to point Tommel in the direction of his mother's farm, however – all of the insects were familiar with the chickens, and the flies were happy to tell him all about the wonders of cow turd. 

"If I am ever again willing to chance your home, I shall pay a visit, my friend," Thor offered as he handed down a small packet of food that he and his friends had gathered for Tommel. 

"I'll keep an eye out for you," Tommel promised, hugging the packet to his chest. "Thank you, Thor." 

"It was my pleasure, Tommel," Thor replied, then turned and flew up to where his friends were waiting for him. 

Tommel sighed and turned towards home. He firmed his expression and started walking. 

-0-

The frost came late that year, which was good for little Tommel, but it still came, which wasn't so good. He kept going doggedly for the first day, but he lagged quickly and eventually found shelter in an abandoned boot. It wasn't any warmer, really, but it was safe, and it would protect Tommel from the snow he knew would soon begin to fall. 

"Mm-Mm-Mother," he whispered, curling around himself and breathing on his hands to try and keep them warm. His worn clothing wasn't helping, and he wished he'd thought to bring along the scrap of fabric he'd seen the second day after parting with Thor. But he hadn't wanted it to slow him down at the time and he hadn't thought about how close it was to winter. 

He passed the hours by telling himself his mother's stories until his voice cracked. He tried to get up and walk around the boot every five minutes or so, trying to keep warm. But, eventually, the sinking temperatures won and he sank into the cold embrace of unconsciousness. 

-0-

Tommel woke to warm comfort of a real bed. Cornbread was baking somewhere and he thought, for a moment, that it had all been a dream and he was back home with his mother, never having been kidnapped. 

"I don't know how you expected to survive in a _boot_ ," a dry, masculine voice commented. 

Tommel opened his eyes to find a brown mouse staring down at him, beady black eyes judging. 

The mouse sighed and turned away. "I suppose you'll tell me it couldn't be helped, now." 

Tommel sat up, the warm blanket falling from his naked chest. He let out a startled squeak and quickly pulled it back up, reaching around to ensure it was covering his naked rear. "I was..." He swallowed and looked away from the mouse's stare, which was maybe just a little bit amused? "I just wanted to get home." 

The mouse hummed and turned back to the large oven set against the far wall. "You won't be going anywhere in this cold. Best to stay in the underground until the flowers bloom again." 

Tommel swallowed. "Okay. Uhm. I'm, uh, I'm Tommel." 

"Phil." 

Tommel forced a shaky smile. "Phil. Nice to meet you. Ahm. Where are my clothes?" 

Phil glanced back at him and, yeah, that was definitely amusement in his beady eyes. He motioned to a pile next to him, which appeared to be Tommel's clothing. "It was icy, so I set it out to dry." He let out a rather put-upon sigh as he turned back to his oven. "It's all nearly so ruined that you'd be better off wrapped in a blanket. I'll have to make you something new. Unless you're able to sew?" 

Tommel shook his head, flushing. "N-no, I don't know how. Sorry." 

Phil shook his head. "You'll learn," he decided. 

Tommel didn't doubt that for a moment. 

-0-

Phil spent almost two weeks teaching Tom how to sew and man the oven and bake the cornbread that the mouse made for his friend, a mole that lived down the tunnel. 

"I made mention of you to Natasha," Phil said one day, speaking of his mole friend. "She wondered if you would deliver the bread tomorrow." 

Tommel bit his lip uncertainly, but nodded. "I can do that," he agreed. 

"Good." 

So found Tommel walking through the dark tunnels with a lit matchstick and running through Phil's directions the whole way. 

Natasha was an interesting creature, sniffing and squinting at Tommel. She liked being told stories, Tommel discovered, so he found himself spending days on end telling the tales of his mother and of his own journey. Natasha seemed to enjoy them all, and Tommel had to admit that he much preferred telling tales over taking care of Phil's oven. 

Almost two weeks after Tommel started delivering the bread, Natasha showed him to where a sparrow had fallen through the frozen ground above and was crumpled in a pile just beyond the snow that had fallen after. Natasha cackled over the sparrow's death, but Tommel discovered that the sparrow was still alive, though only just. 

He kept visiting Natasha, but he would always make a side-trip to see to the sparrow. He sewed together some scraps to make the sparrow a blanket, and snuck away cornbread and cups to melt snow in. 

"I am Clint Sparrow," the sparrow said when he was strong enough to speak. 

"Tommel," the tiny human replied, smiling and rubbing along Clint's beak. "I'm glad you're okay." 

"All thanks to you," Clint assured him, and Tommel knew the sparrow would smile if birds could do so. 

Two days after Clint recovered enough to speak, Natasha wrapped a claw around Tommel's shoulders and said, "You are very good to me, Tommel. I have long thought of seeking a companion, and you very much fit the ideal. Won't you move in with me, as my husband?" 

Tommel wrung his hands and ducked away. "I'm only staying until the flowers bloom, Natasha, I'm sorry. I need to get back to Mother." 

Natasha shook her head. "After so long away, she surely thinks you dead. If she has not died of a broken heart, she will have moved on. You're old enough to part from your mother by now, surely." 

Tommel shook his head. "I need to go home," he insisted. 

But the winter was long, and Natasha both persistent and devious, and very likely had Phil on her side, though Tommel never caught them discussing him. By the time the snow had begun to melt enough for Clint to return to the skies with Tommel's blessing, the mole had talked Tommel into moving in with her, leaving Phil to his ovens alone, which the mouse seemed to enjoy just fine. 

Still, Tommel insisted he was going home as soon as the flowers had bloomed. He insisted it right up until he woke up to find all his clothing replaced by blooming flower buds and Phil and Natasha hovering over his bed with wide smiles and the assurance that he was already home. 

Tommel had run for the exit Clint had used. He wrapped the blanket he'd made for the sparrow around his waist, then scrambled up through the hole, chased by Natasha's shouts of love and Phil's assurances that he'd be happier underground. 

Tommel walked for a whole day, uncertain which direction he was heading, but scared and lonely and practically naked. 

Just before he might have collapsed, a shadow fell over him and he looked up to find Clint coming in for a smooth landing. 

"Clint!" he shouted, and wrapped his arms around the sparrow's neck in a joyful hug. 

"Tommel," Clint replied, one wing coming around to cover the tiny human's back. "Tommel, what is it?" 

It was then that Tommel realised he was sobbing into his friend's feathers. Too tired to explain, he just shook his head and pressed closer to the sparrow. 

Clint kept him company after Tommel had finally collapsed from exhaustion, and when Tommel woke, he offered, "I think I know where your mother's farm is. I can fly you there." 

"Really?" Tommel breathed, blue eyes wide and hopeful. 

Clint ducked his head in a nod. "Climb on my back and I'll take you right away." 

So Tommel climbed onto his friend's back and clung tight around his neck as Clint hopped into the air and started away. They had to rest twice over the evening, and Tommel almost fell out of the tree Clint stopped in the first night, but they finally made it. And though he'd never seen it from above, Tommel would always recognise his mother's farm. 

Or, what was left of it. 

"No," Tommel whispered sliding off Clint's back to touch the charred remains of the kitchen windowsill, where Clint had landed at his direction. The stove must have been the cause, for the worst of the damage was here. "Mother..." 

"Tommel, I'm sorry," Clint offered quietly, brushing feathers against the tiny human's back, still bare for he'd not had time or opportunity to find more than the blanket wrapped around his lower half. 

Tommel closed his eyes against the image. "Phil was right," he murmured, hunching his shoulders forward. "I would have been happier underground." 

Clint shook his head. "A creature of the above-ground, living happily underground? No, you would have been miserable." 

Tommel was having a hard time imagining being more miserable than he currently was, but it hadn't been so long ago that he was fleeing from a marriage he didn't want, two of them, even. He looked up towards where the pot that had held his purple flower used to sit and swallowed. "I want to..." He bit his lip and glanced back at Clint. "I want to find her grave. Put some flowers on it." 

Clint bobbed his head. "There's a field just over yonder. All sorts of beautiful flowers grow there." 

Tommel climbed back onto Clint and held on tight as his friend took off. "Thank you," he whispered into the sparrow's feathers, so quiet that Clint couldn't possibly have heard him over the wind. And, indeed, Clint made no response, not even a dip of his wings. 

The field Clint had spoken of was a gorgeous spread of colour. Even with his heart low in his chest, Tommel found himself smiling at the sight. "There," he called to Clint, pointing down. "That purple patch." 

Clint spiralled down smoothly and let Tommel down next to a stalk that had buds just his size. Tommel quickly set about picking a bunch, while Clint picked a couple of larger ones in his beak. 

Tommel was just about to pick the last one he wanted, one that was nearly the same shade of purple as his flower had been, when a buzzing caught his attention and he looked up to find a human-shaped figure just his size hovering over him on bright green wings dotted with silver and shining in the sun like a moth's. "Oh," he breathed and nearly dropped his flowers. 

The newcomer, who had looked almost angry when Tommel first turned around, blinked a few times and dropped to the ground, his wings resting easily behind him. "Wha– What are you doing to my family's field?" 

Tommel swallowed and looked down at his armful of flowers. "My mother died. I wanted to leave these at her grave." He looked back up, then, into eyes as green as the freshest grass. "I'm sorry. I meant no insult." 

The other stepped forward and picked the flower Tommel had been reaching for, which he then held out for the tiny human. "I take none," he offered quietly. When Tommel took the flower, the other offered, "I'm Loki." 

Tommel swallowed and carefully added the flower to his armful. "Tommel." 

"Tommel," Loki repeated, and the sound of his name on the other's lips sent an odd little chill up Tommel's spine, one which wasn't at all unpleasant. 

Tommel smiled a bit shakily and took a slow step backwards. "It was nice meeting you, Loki," he offered. 

Loki gave a well-practised little bow. "Likewise. Feel free to visit again," he offered and jumped up into the air to leave. 

Tommel felt an odd sense of relief to see Loki leaving, even as something in his chest tugged. Confused and still aching for the loss of his mother, Tommel hunted down Clint and directed the sparrow to the graveyard his mother's husband and unborn child had been buried in. 

They found the two graves easily enough, a spot left next to it for his mother's grave. A spot that was empty. 

Tommel stared in disbelief for a long moment, then turned back to Clint. "But, if she doesn't have a grave–?"

"Tommel!" an achingly familiar voice shouted out from behind them. 

Tommel turned to see a normal-sized human woman approaching them. "Mother!" he shouted and dropped his flowers, reaching up for her. 

The old woman knelt next to him and held out her hand for him to climb onto. He immediately clung to her thumb, sobbing into her skin. "Oh, Tommel," she breathed, bringing her hand up to her face so she could press her cheek against him. "Oh, my son." 

Once they'd both calmed down a bit and Clint had been introduced, Tommel told her about finding the farmhouse burned out. "I was in the village," she explained. "Mrs Dipper's son caught ill again, and she called on me, since I helped the first time, remember?" Tommel nodded. "When they found out about the fire, they offered me their guest room until someone could be hired later this month to see to the repairs." 

"I'm glad," Tommel replied, hugging his knees to his chest. 

Mother smiled briefly before her expression turned into a frown. "But, Tommel, where have you been? And what are you _wearing_?"

Tommel tugged on the ragged fabric around his legs, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. But he told her all about being kidnapped by the toads and being saved by the fish and spending weeks with the beetles and the field mouse saving him and the mole trying to marry him and escaping with Clint. 

By the time his story was done, Mother had carried him back to the Dippers' home and made up little beds next to the open window for both him and Clint, who had happily followed along. 

"You've had quite the adventure, Tommel," Mother said as he curled up in his new matchbox. "But you're home now, and I'm certainly glad for it." 

"I am too, Mother," Tommel admitted around a yawn. 

"Get some sleep," Mother directed. "I'll have new clothing for you tomorrow." 

Tommel smiled. "Good night, Mother. Good night, Clint." 

"Good night, Tommel," they both replied. 

-0-

Clint left the next afternoon after promising to visit again soon, and Tommel showed his mother all the things he'd learned while he was away. She was much impressed and left him to take care of his clothing from then on. They oversaw the building of their new farmhouse together, and Tommel even got a tiny room all his own in the living room, with a path high above the floor that he could take to the kitchen table without fear of getting stepped on by guests. 

His mother's stay in the village had put her back into the good graces of the people there, and they began visiting. Many were surprised to find Tommel walking along the wall or sitting on the kitchen table, but they quickly enough became used to him. 

Clint came to stay for the winter when an invitation was extended, and Thor and his friends came for a visit in the spring, staying until Mother shooed them out. Tommel got to know other birds who lived nearby, and other insects that lived in and around the farm, so he was rarely lonely. 

Through it all, Tommel would often find himself remembering that other boy in the flower field, Loki. Sometimes, he felt like he missed him, same as he had when he was apart from Mother. But they'd only met _once_!

"Mother?" he said one night as they sat in the kitchen together, both working with a needle and thread to embroider things to sell to passing traders. 

"Tommel?" Mother replied. 

Tommel smoothed his hand over some unstitched fabric. "What does it mean when you can't stop thinking about someone?" 

Mother blinked in surprise. "Thinking about them in a hateful way?" 

Tommel shook his head. "No. Like...like you want to see them again." 

Mother's eyes widened, then her face creased with concern. "This isn't the mole, is it?" 

Tommel made a face. "No, thank you." He sighed and looked back down at his work, then said, "When Clint and I were collecting flowers for you, I met another boy just like me. But he had wings." 

"A fairy?" Mother asked, something like awe in her voice. 

Tommel peeked up at her. "Is that what he was?" 

Mother smiled. "Very likely. You think of him often?" 

Tommel nodded. "Yes. And I..." He paused to chew his lip for a moment. "Is there something wrong with me, Mother?" 

Mother shook her head. "Goodness, no. I was the same when Father wasn't around." 

It took Tommel a moment, but he cottoned on to what Mother was saying quickly enough, and his eyes widened. "Oh," he breathed. 

Mother reached over a finger to rub against Tommel's cheek. "Perhaps you should see if Clint will fly you out to that field again." 

Tommel did ask, and Clint was plenty willing, though he seemed confused as to _why_. "Is it your mother's birthday or something?" 

Tommel shook his head. "No. I'm not going to pick flowers, I'm going to find someone." 

"Okay..." Clint replied. 

They landed in the patch of purple flowers again. Tommel was half afraid he'd _never_ find Loki in the huge field, but he needn't have worried, for the fairy buzzed over less than a minute after Tommel slid off Clint's back, green and silver wings fluttering so fast, the colours were a blur. "You've _returned_ ," Loki breathed, dropping to the ground. "I thought–"

Tommel ran forward to hug the fairy, and Loki quickly caught him. "I couldn't stop thinking about you!" he admitted, smiling so wide his face hurt. "But I'd just found Mother again–"

"You said your mother was dead!" Loki insisted, pulling back enough to give Tommel a frown. 

Tommel shook his head. "Our house was burned by fire, but she wasn't inside, so she's okay! I didn't know, before." He felt his cheek warm. "I'm sorry, again, for picking your flowers." 

Loki shook his head and cupped Tommel's cheek. "I'm glad she's okay," he offered, and Tommel wasn't sure if he wanted to grin or blush, so he did a bit of both. 

"Tommel," Clint called, reminding the tiny human that the sparrow was still there. 

Tommel immediately hopped back from Loki, feeling a bit like he'd been caught doing something naughty. "Clint," he hurried to say, "this is Loki. Loki, this is my best friend, Clint Sparrow." 

"Well met, Clint Sparrow," Loki offered with a little bow. 

"Likewise," Clint replied, poking one wing against Tommel's back. "You didn't tell me you'd met any fairies last time we were here." 

Tommel winced. "Sorry. Other things on my mind?" 

"Fair enough," Clint decided. 

Loki cleared his throat and held out a hand to Tommel. "Please, won't you come meet my parents? I don't think they believe me when I say someone captured my heart." 

Tommel blushed a bright red and took Loki's hand, only to be pulled in close, so Loki could take off. "Can Clint come?" Tommel quickly asked before they got too far. 

Loki nodded and motioned for the sparrow to follow, which he did with a huff. 

It didn't take them long to find all the fairies. Loki led them up to where a couple wearing crowns sat, and Tommel had but a brief moment of realisation before Loki was saying, "Mother, Father, this is the man I told you of, Tommel." 

Loki's father – _The **king** of the fairies,_ Tommel thought faintly – looked generally displeased, and his mother appeared unimpressed. "He's lacking wings," she pointed out. 

Loki raised his eyebrows. "And? You said if I found someone I wished to marry before Helblindi did, I was allowed to marry them, even were it a _toad_."

The queen's expression soured and she narrowed her eyes at Tommel. "And does _he_ wish to marry?" 

Loki's cheeks pinked ever so faintly and he turned to look at Tommel. The prince was still for a moment, then he dropped smoothly to one knee, drawing surprised gasps from all the other fairies in attendance, even his parents. "Tommel, please, would you agree to marry me?" 

Tommel remembered two toads who hadn't wanted to listen to a no, who had chased him and almost caused him to drown. He remembered a mole who just kept wearing on him, who stole all his clothing in an attempt to take away his choice. 

And now Loki, a prince who had waited almost an entire year for Tommel to come back, who would get on his knees and _ask_ , rather than demanding like all the others. Someone who was just Tommel's size and shape. 

Tommel dropped to his own knees and took Loki's hands in his. "I would be _honoured_ to marry you," he breathed. 

Loki's whole face lit up and someone in the crowd beyond them let out a cheer. 

"But only if my mother can come to the wedding," Tommel added. 

"He'll do," Loki's father decided, and Tommel thought he saw something like approval glinting in his eyes. 

Two weeks later, at the height of the summer bloom, all of Tommel's friends and his mother came out to the field of flowers to watch as Tommel and Loki married. 

And when they kissed, wings of the most royal purple, edged in silver, bloomed from Tommel's back, like they'd been waiting for that moment his whole life.


End file.
